


Hazy Days

by da_petty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, And probably a couple of tags I can't think of at the moment., BAMF John Watson, Bars and Pubs, Blood and Violence, Butt Chugging, Fraternities & Sororities, Hazing, Lube, M/M, The Butt Chugging is the Non/Con part.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Sherlock eavesdrops on a conversation and can't resist giving his opinion. You know. SOSDD.





	Hazy Days

**Author's Note:**

> Ok. This is another one of those stories where I started writing and couldn't stop until it was finishe. Hopefully, it's worth your time. 
> 
> Kudos and comments keep the dream alive!!

“Jesus Christ! What are you doing?! Grab his arm before he comes round!” The man yelled in exasperation.

“I’m trying! You think you can do better, Jeremy? You’re welcome to try!”

“And how do you imagine I’d be able to do that, Lee? I’m already at the back end. Robby! Get over here and help. NOW!” Jeremy bellowed.

“It’s just…I’m not sure that we should be doing this,” Robby said weakly.

“You were all for it earlier,” Lee said. “What changed?”

“He sobered up,” Jeremy said with a laugh.

“It’s just…he’s bleeding. I thought we were just going to teach him about hazing…” Robby finished lamely.

“Yeah, well. He tried to get away and slammed head first into a brick wall. Not our fault that he wouldn’t cooperate.” Jeremy said with a laugh.

“That’s a lot of blood, though. Maybe we should take him to hospital,” Robby said tentatively.

“He’s fine. Head wounds just bleed a lot. Besides, do you want to get arrested for assault because I don’t,” Lee said, finally getting a firm hold on the man’s shoulder and elbow, locking him into position on the ground.

“Even without the head wound, it’s still assault,” Robby said.

“And where the fuck is James?! This was his idea.” Jeremy complained, ignoring Robby’s comment. 

“He, um…when we came round the bend in the alley, he saw all the blood and shoved the kit into my hands and took off. Said he didn’t sign on for all that.” It had actually been Robby's suggestion, not James' but Robby was here and James was not so Robby didn't feel the need to correct Jeremy. That wasn't a great idea on a sober day. It was downright suicidal when he was pissed.

“Well, that’s just great. So why didn’t you run off like a little cunt too?” Lee asked.

“I don’t know. I just froze. Do you still want this?” Robby asked, gesturing at Lee with the kit.

“What do you think?” Lee snapped.

“We could just call an ambulance once we’d gone and let them deal with it.” Robby suggested.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Just get over here with the kit!”

“You know that they can trace the call anyhow, Robby,” Jeremy said.

“We could call from the pub!” Robby suggested hopefully.

“God. What a moron. You think no one would notice strangers who’d gotten into an argument with another patron just walking in, making a call and then taking off? Not to mention said patron laying unconscious in an alley with his trousers down? We’re doing this and you’re part of it. Either way you’re guilty. Might as well enjoy it,” Lee finished with a grin.

“I don’t think that you’re supposed to give alcohol to someone with a head wound,” Robby said, giving it one more try. 

Finals were over and they’d celebrated by heading out of town to watch their team play. Their team had won and they'd decided to celebrate. They’d stopped at the first pub they’d come to and immediately set about getting pissed.

There was always some sort of fight that broke out when they were drunk but it was usually just amongst themselves and rarely involved anyone else. Most people were smart enough to stay away and they were usually given the bum’s rush before anything terrible happened anyway. But, this man. He’d been sitting in the booth behind them, texting in between sips of tea.

They’d begun arguing about hazing and the man had clearly been listening. Not that he could have avoided it. They weren’t loud enough to be heard over the noise of the bar but this fellow was sitting right behind them; it would have been hard to ignore. 

Robby looked at the man on the ground. Lee had one hand on the man’s wrist, pulling his arm tightly behind his back, the other hand on the neck, pressing his face roughly into the cobblestones. 

A pool of blood was rapidly spreading about his head. The light in the alley was dim making the blood look black and thick. Almost like tar. Robby shuddered. Why couldn’t that man have minded his own business?

***

They'd been well into their fifth, or was it sixth, pint when the argument had started. Robby had been joking about the recent hazing they’d done to another fellow at university. They’d all laughed uproariously as they’d gone into detail about catching the man unawares on campus and dragging him into a dark corner between two buildings. About how the man was so terrified, he’d actually pissed himself when they’d first grabbed him. That made them laugh even harder.

They’d been wearing masks and hadn’t said anything, just proceeded to force the man to his knees, pulling his trousers and pants down around his thighs while Robby set up the funnel and tube. 

The man had begun sobbing around the makeshift gag causing Robby a momentary flash of guilt which he’d stamped down as quickly as it had arrived. He had a lovely buzz going and he didn’t want to ruin it by letting his conscious get involved.

Although this was premeditated - this guy had wanted to join their fraternity and if you wanted in then you had to go through initiation just like they all had done. They’d had drinks before they'd set out and still were drinking as they’d set out to catch this man leaving a late night class. It’d been perfect. As soon as he’d stepped out of the protection of the lights around the building, they’d nabbed him and here they were.

Robby had begun putting lube on the end of the tube, looking up when he heard an impatient sigh from Jeremy. Jeremy never wanted to use lube, he just wanted them to shove the hose up their victim’s arses and get started pouring the alcohol into the funnel. Robby, however, was a bit more compassionate than that and didn’t want to cause any physical damage to the person trying to join their fraternity. They didn’t forget something like that and it made for an uncomfortable gathering when your victim still felt like a victim afterwards. Until it was their turn to participate with the hazing of someone else, that is. Then they magically seemed to forget how awful their experience had been and threw themselves into punishing the new guy with glee. He’d agreed to be hazed if he wanted to join. He had no one to blame but himself for what happened to him as a result. 

Robby had seen too many bleeding arseholes from this form of hazing and had taken over the responsibility of doing the actual deed himself just to avoid any further unnecessary injuries. He was the thoughtful one in the frat.

“Hey. Hey!” Jeremy said, slapping the sobbing man on the back of his head.

“You said that you wanted to be a part of our fraternity, didn’t you?”

The man stopped sobbing as he realized what was happening and gave a brief nod of his head.

“This is just the hazing, we’re not here to rape you or anything gay like that. All you need to do is lay still while my friend shoves this tube up your arse so that we can share a few pints with you. That’s all. Can you do that?” Jeremy asked, waiting. The man nodded again and Jeremy released him, waiting to see if the man would bolt. They’d do it the hard way if they had to.

“Good lad,” Jeremy said, clapping him on the back. He looked up giving Robby a tip of his head to proceed. It’d been pleasant after that. The man had lain still, patiently drinking up the beer with his arse, getting steadily drunker by the minute. 

Once the final beer had been greedily sucked down, Robby removed the hose, took out the funnel and turned away giving the items a few flicks to get an excess beer out, then he coiled up the hose and shove it, the funnel, and the empties into his kit and zipped it up, ready to go. 

Jeremy had pushed his mask back onto the top of his head and leaned down, whispering in the man’s ear;

“Now. That wasn’t so bad, was it? Here, let me take that sock out of your mouth,” Jeremy, who had calmed down from his original urge to hurt the man, gently removed the sock, guided him to his feet and steadied him.

“Let’s just get you to your dorm room,” Robby said, helping the now clearly drunk man to pull up his trousers, right his clothes and then they'd helped him stagger to his room, and tucked him into bed.

“Welcome to the fraternity, Ian,” Robby whispered then left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

***

If that man would have minded his own business, this wouldn’t have happened. They hadn’t even known that he was listening, not that it would have mattered, but about the point where Randy was talking about being considerate and using lube, he piped up;

“You should embrace your homosexuality. It’s nothing of which to be ashamed.”

‘Who talks like that?’ Robby thought. All formal, like it was the 1800’s or something. To add insult to injury, he hadn’t even turned around to say it. Just loud enough for he and Jeremy, who were sitting on the other side of the booth, to hear. 

“Did you hear that?” Jeremy asked. It was obvious that he was trying to decide if that comment had been directed at him.

“Hear what, mate?” Lee asked, taking another sip of his beer. James stayed out of it and just watched the exchange as if he were at a sporting event.

Robby, who’d been sitting next to Jeremy and had heard the comment quite clearly, said, “He’s probably on a call or something.”

“No, I’m not,” the man replied, still without turning around.

“Did you just call us fags?” Jeremy demanded.

“No,” the man replied.

“That’s what I thought,” the man huffed, turning back round to face his friends.

“I would never use such a derogatory word. I was merely commenting on your latent homosexuality and recommending that you embrace it rather than taking it out on others due to your own insecurities.”

“Oi! I, WE are not fags!”

“I never said that you were,” the man replied calmly. He obviously didn’t realize what kind of danger he was in and he STILL had yet to turn around and address them directly. He was literally talking behind their backs.

“You posh git!” Jeremy exclaimed, sliding his way drunkenly out of the booth to stand with a wobble at the side of the man’s table. 

His eyes quickly took in the dark brown curly hair, the scarf around his neck, expensive looking coat with the collar popped framing a long neck. 

Jeremy stood facing him for a good three minutes waiting for the man to acknowledge him but he just sat there, typing into his mobile without pausing or looking up.

“Hey!” Jeremy slammed his hand down on the table causing the man’s mobile to jump.

“You looking for trouble, mate?!” Jeremy demanded.

“No. Why would I do that? Don’t be ridiculous. Trouble does seem to find me though,” the man said and resumed typing on his mobile.

“Well, it’s found you now. Let’s step outside,” Jeremy stepped back to give the man space to get up.

“Thank you, no. Can’t. Busy. Raincheck?” The man said calmly, eyes still on his mobile.

Jeremy had become red in the face and was huffing angrily. 

“You!” Jeremy exclaimed, then paused, so angry that he couldn’t speak. It was as if all the things he wanted to say were jammed together fighting to get from his brain to his mouth and so he just stood there silently breathing heavily and looking decidedly foolish.

The man finally turned to look at him noticing that the friend who had been seated next to him, was now also standing and had a hand on Jeremy’s bicep.

“Man of many word, I see,” said the man and resumed typing on his mobile.

“Jeremy. Come on. Sit back down,” Robby said, pulling him by the arm. He wasn’t quite as pissed as Jeremy and wanted to avoid a fight in front of witnesses.

“Yes, Jeremy. Listen to your friend and go sit down,” the man said, gaze intent on whatever he was reading.

Jeremy lunged forward, but Robby had anticipated this and held onto his bicep firmly, holding him in place.

“Come on. He’s not worth it.”

“I most certainly am.”

“Are you looking to go to hospital tonight?” Robby said angrily.

“Actually, yes,” the man said and stood up. Shoving his mobile into his pocket, he threw some bills on the table and turned to leave.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?! This isn’t over!” Jeremy said to the man’s retreating back.

“Clearly, it is.” The man swept out with a magnificent swirl of his coat, the door easing shut slowly behind him. 

Robby pulled Jeremy back to their booth and shoved him into it, quickly sitting down next to him, blocking him in.

“I’m going to kill him!” Jeremy threatened.

“No, you’re not. You want to graduate, don’t you?” Robby said making a half-hearted attempt at a joke that immediately fell flat.

“Someone want to tell me what that was all about?” Lee asked, wiping foam from his lips with the back of his hand.

“That arsehole just called us fags!” Jeremy exclaimed.

“Actually, I think that he was talking to you…” Robby began but stopped as soon as Jeremy glared at him.

“Right. Ok. Why don’t we get even with him?” Robby asked

“How?” Jeremy asked angrily. “You won’t let me kill him.”

“I have my kit in the car and a few beers left over from the other night. We could teach him a lesson.” Robby suggested.

Jeremy stopped and thought a second. 

“I like that idea! James, pay the bill then you and Robby go to the car and get the kit! Lee. With me.” Jeremey said, standing up and forcing Robby out of the booth ahead of him.

“How will we know where to find you?” James asked, neither excited or nervous about the night’s unexpected turn.

“Robby will come out with us while you settle the bill. Once we spot him, Robby will wait for you and lead you to us after you get the stuff. As soon as we know which direction he’s going, you two run and get the kit and then just go in the same direction until you find a dark alley and hear someone taking a beating. That will be us.”

“Don’t kill him, Jeremy.” Robby said again.

“I won’t. Go on. Hurry up! With legs that long, that arsehole will be gone in no time. If I can’t find him, someone else will have to take his place.” Jeremy said with a meaningful look at James.

“Understood,” Robby said when James remained silent and unfazed by the threat. 

Exiting the bar, they looked right and left but it was as if the man had just vanished. 

“Where the fuck did he go?!” Jeremy demanded. Just then, a car’s headlights picked up the swirl of the man’s coat as he quickly headed away.

“There! Ok. You two go and don’t take long else I can’t promise the condition of his face when you get there.” Jeremy grabbed Lee by the sleeve following the rapidly retreating figure. 

“I don’t think that this is a good idea, Robby,” James stated in a neutral tone of voice. “Hazing a willing participant is a lot different than sodomizing a complete stranger.”

Robby bit his thumb, then said, “I know but it’s too late now. Come on. It won’t do to make Jeremy wait too long when he’s like this.” Then they both turned and headed rapidly into the darkness in search of their vehicle.

***

“There,” Jeremy said, simultaneously tapping Lee on the shoulder and pointing at the figure that seemed to be slowing down.

“Easy pickings! He’s stopping to have a smoke right next to that alley. Convenient. Let’s go!” 

The man was leaning against a brick wall, casually flicking an ash off his cigarette and looking for all the world like he’d been waiting for them.

“Took you long enough,” the man said, throwing the cigarette down and grinding it under the toe of one well shod foot.

This wasn’t the reaction the men had been expecting and caused them to pause.

“Well?” The man asked.

“Well, what?” Jeremy asked belligerently.

“I thought you were going to “teach me a lesson?” It’s late and I don’t have all night. There’s a lovely corpse with my name on it waiting for me at hospital so if we could move this along…” the man gestured towards the mouth of the alley and preceded them without a look back to see if they were following.

“Nutter,” Lee said, swirling his index finger next to his head in the universal sign for “crazy.”

“Yeah, well, there are four of us and one of him. You coming?” Jeremy said, heading into the alley without waiting to see if Lee was following.

***

James and Robby had finally come across an alley where voices speaking in loud whispers could be heard.

“Well, this is it,” Robby said, shuffling back and forth nervously. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this…

They started walking down the alley until they were far enough away from the entrance so as to remain unseen by the casual passerby. It was unlikely that anyone would hear them since there wasn’t a reason for anyone else to listen at alley entrances so intently.

They had only gone a few more feet when they saw that the man was fighting back, and, if Robby were honest, rather elegantly. He was clearly winning and Robby took a moment to enjoy the beauty of it. 

Things changed in an instant when Lee picked up a random piece of discarded cardboard, flinging it at the man’s feet. As if in slow motion, the cardboard went under the man’s feet causing him to lose his balance followed by his head thudding none to gently into the alley wall. They waited for him to get up but he was still, suspiciously and worrisomely still. Robby knew that he needed to stop this before it got worse.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James turn and begin walking out of the way they’d come.

“Hey!” Robby said, jogging to catch up. “Where are you going?”

“Are you kidding? Did you see all that blood? I wasn’t even interested in the hazing but I thought I’d tag along. This though? This is starting to look like murder and I’m out. I knew it was only a matter of time before Jeremy killed one too many braincells with drink and would do something from which there was no turning back.” 

James shoved the kit into Robby’s unresisting hands. “I’d leave too, if I were you. He’s going to get you killed one day.” And then James was gone so quickly that it was as if he’d never been there. Robby blinked and began dragging his feet back to the scene of the crime. 

***

“Get his trousers and pants down, Robby!” Jeremy snapped.

Robby walked reluctantly forward pausing to take in the injured man, head down, arse up, still unconscious, bleeding heavily from the head wound. It was an ignominious position to be in and Robby didn’t envy him one bit.

“Let me check to see if he’s still breathing first,” Robby said, leaning over then holding his fingers beneath the man’s nose. He leaned back and looked at Jeremy.

“Well? Is this abuse or necrophilia?” Jeremy asked and laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. Robby shuttered.

“He’s alive but he’s breathing is shallow. He’s losing too much blood…”

“I didn’t know that you were a doctor. I just wanted to know if he was alive. Here,” Jeremy said and tugged at the man’s scarf until he’d freed an end and gave it to Lee.

“Press that over the wound, Lee. Well? Anything else? He could bleed to death by the time you’ve done giving a medical lecture.”

Nodding, Robby reached his arms around the man’s waist, unbuckled his belt and unfastened his trousers sliding them down a patently lovely buttocks and strong, muscular thighs. No pants. Robby wouldn’t wear them either if his pants that tight.

“Let’s go!” 

Robby grabbed his kit by the handle and dragged it over next to himself. He began putting the simple funnel and tubing together ending with squeezing a packet of lube on the rounded end of the tube. Taking out several cans of beer, he paused before popping the first cap.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Robby knew that he was pushing his luck, asking the same thing constantly but he couldn’t help it. He knew that this was wrong. That he should get help, but he couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

“Don’t make me tell you again, Robby.”

Robby sighed and dropped the now empty pack of lube on the ground. He picked up the hose, and once more met Jeremy’s eyes. What he saw there convinced him to keep his mouth shut. He went back to the task of easing the tube into the stranger’s rectum. Sitting back, he methodically popped the tabs on the three cans - that was all they’d had left from last night's hazing - picked up the funnel and began rapidly pouring the beer, barely waiting long enough for one beer to go down before emptying the next. 

He was pouring the last can in when they heard the clearing of a throat. He froze, can still pouring into the funnel, and looked at the man standing in the alley. The light was behind him so that his face was hidden in darkness. He was clenching his fists and Robby could feel the waves of anger radiating from him.

“Stop doing what you’re doing, take that goddamned tube out and pull his trousers back up,” this new man said. His hand detached itself from his silhouette and pointed what was clearly a gun, at Robby.

“I won’t ask again,” the man said and waved the gun at Robby in a hurry up motion.

Robby did as he was told, pulling the tube out and then getting the victim’s trousers up and buttoned in seconds. He didn’t bother with the belt or the zip. He didn’t think that the man would wait that long.

“Stand up. Not you!” The man gestured to Lee. “Keep pressure on that wound.”

They stood up, only Jeremy dumb enough to belligerently ask,

“What’s it to you? You just want a piece for yourself?”

The man took measured paces towards the men until he stood close enough to Jeremy that the muzzle of his gun was pressed firmly into his breast bone.

“Well, you see, I was in the pub, minding my own business. Tough day in hospital, I wanted to have a few pints and relax. Then I saw you knuckleheads get into an argument with this man.” He looked down and then back up into Jeremy’s suddenly calculating eyes.

“Yeah. I know what you’re thinking. There’s a forth guy, maybe he’ll come and save the day. Nope. I already took care of him. That’s what took me almost too long to get here. Caught up with him, reaching for the door handle and gave him a nice punch to the kidneys. He dropped like a sack of flour. I asked him questions, he gave me answers, told me where to find you and look, here I am.” 

Kicking the beer cans away, the man asked Robby, “How many of these did you give him?”

“Th…three.” Robby stuttered. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t use something with a higher alcohol content. Alcohol thins the blood, idiots. Had that moron not kept the scarf tightly to the wound, well…”

Suddenly, Jeremy made a move trying to push the man’s gun off of his chest. The man was waiting for this though and promptly pulled his gun hand back and bashed Jeremy on the head. He promptly crumpled to the ground.

The man gestured at Lee and Robby with his now bloodied gun.

“So. Anyone else want to try me?”

They both shook their heads in silence. 

“I didn’t think so. You,” the man nodded towards Robby. “Got any rope in there?”

“Yaa…yes sir.”

“Take it out and tie those two together, then yourself. I’ll be checking the knots. They don’t need to be permanent. They only need to last as long as it takes the cops to get here." At their look of surprise, the man said, "You didn’t think that I’d walk into a dark alleyway in the middle of the night without having called the police, did you?” The man gave a dark smile.

Robby felt like this had taken hours when in fact it’d been more like 15 minutes, start to finish. He was now sat, back against the wall, wrists tied tightly - the man had made sure of that - watching as the man moved their victim onto his side and, gently removing the scarf to check the head wound, checked the man's pupils and then wrapped the scarf tightly around the man’s head to stop the bleeding. He looked over at the three men, although Jeremy still lay unconscious on the alley floor.

“You’d better hope that you haven’t done any permanent damage,” the man reached out and yanked the ID badge from the front of one’s coat, “Lee.”

Then he snapped the badges off of Jeremy and Randy and read their names. Shuffling them together in a pile, he said, 

“Ok. Randy. Jeremy. Lee. Here’s what’s going to happen, the police are here (a siren that had been waling in the distance suddenly wound down, headlights from the cop car lighting up the tableau of victim, hero and henchmen, “I’m going to get this man to hospital but I’m going to keep your badges to remember you by because, should any of you trust fund babies manage to avoid jail time, I’ll be waiting for you one dark night and by the time I’m through with you? There won’t be anything left to lock up.” 

The man stood as a plain clothed detective walked forward, hand out. He was tall, with salt and pepper hair and held himself with a sense of weary confidence. The man was a good judge of character and liked him immediately. He grasped the other man’s hand as the detective introduced himself.

“DI Greg Lestrade. And you are?”

“John Watson. Doctor John Watson. Are there medics on the way? I’d asked for dispatch to call because time was of the essence and I needed to make sure that I got here before something fatal happened.”

“Yes. They’re coming in with my detectives right now. Is the man going to be alright?” Lestrade asked, nodding towards the man on the ground.

“I think so but he likely has a concussion and is very definitely going to have a headache when he wakes up.”

Lestrade walked over to the man who was now groaning, and crouched down beside him.

“Sherlock! My god. Are you ok? What happened? Who’d you piss off now?!”

Sherlock looked up at Lestrade bleary eyed, “Frat boys who enjoy violently hazing pledges.” Sherlock finished, closing his eyes again and sighing. 

“Have you been drinking? You don’t drink. What were you thinking?”

Sherlock opened one eye up and gave him a baleful glare. 

“I can assure you that it was completely involuntary.”

“They forced you to drink? You couldn’t take them?” Lestrade asked, astonished.

Sherlock pointed to the scarf around his head, and said, “Well, in case you missed it; massive head wound. And I never said that I drank the alcohol.” Sherlock finished, eye falling on Doctor Watson.

“Didn’t drink it…then how…” Lestrade looked to where John was pointing and saw the tube, funnel and empty beer cans laying haphazardly in the carrier.

“Oh. Oh! OH!” Lestrade exclaimed, shocked. Sherlock just didn’t get caught like this.

“Who is that?” Sherlock asked, sounding decidedly tipsy and pointing to John.

John stepped forward, “Doctor John Watson. That’s quite a nasty wound on your head. How are you feeling?”

“I have a splitting headache and my arse is killing me!” And then he smiled at John and John reflexively smiled back.

Lestrade looked from Sherlock to John and back again.

“Do you two know each other?” Lestrade asked.

“Never met,” they both replied simultaneously and laughed. Sherlock clutching at his head and groaning.

“Really seems like you know each other.”

“And that’s how you made DI. Those lightning quick deductions.” Sherlock said snarkily.

“Well, I can tell that there’s no permanent damage so I’ll just move on to taking the perpetrators in for questioning. Let the medics take care of you!” Lestrade said sternly as he saw Sherlock brush the woman’s attempt to get a line in. Sherlock began to sit up only to immediately slump back down again. Lestrade watched in grim satisfaction as the medic set up and IV and connected it to the port in his arm.

“Doctor Watson will take care of me. He is my physician after all.”

“Wait. I thought that you didn’t know each other and you hate doctors. Since when do you have your own personal doctor?”

“Since now. And he’s a very skilled surgeon recently invalided from Afghanistan. How is your shoulder, Captain?”

John looked nonplussed for a moment, then smiled and said, “Fine, thank you. How’s your arse?”

“It’s been better but you should probably check it out for me, Doctor,” Sherlock said.

Sherlock was flirting! Sherlock was flirting with a man. Sherlock was flirting OUTRAGEOUSLY with a man. Lestrade couldn’t believe it. He looked over at John in time to see him blush and with a shy smile say,

“I’d like that.” Then John and Sherlock went silent, just gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Well, ok then. I’ll just leave you to it. To, ah, the medics…” Lestrade said, still in shock at this latest development.

“Tell Mycroft not to bother me, Gary,” Sherlock said, eyes never leaving John’s.

Lestrade sighed, “Greg. You know damned well that it’s Greg.”

“Concussion.” John and Sherlock said together, and both laughed again.

“I play the violin at all hours of the day and night and I often won’t speak for days. You’re looking for a flat and I’m looking for a flatmate. Interested?” Sherlock smiled at John.

“I don’t even care how you knew that, I’m interested. Where shall I meet you?”

“I’m assuming that that gurney they're wheeling over here is for me and that I’m going to hospital for scans or something? Join me?”

“Love too,” John said, watching as the medics lifted Sherlock onto the gurney and then following him to the waiting ambulance.

The last thing that Lestrade heard was Sherlock saying,

“And afterwards, you can take me home to 221B and take a look at the flat to see if it to your liking. After that, you can put me to bed.”

Lestrade huffed out a breath and shook his head, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his mobile when he heard the chime of a text coming through.

“Please keep an eye on those two, Gregory, while I have the Doctor thoroughly vetted.

— Mycroft”

“I’m pretty sure that Sherlock will have Doctor Watson thoroughly vetted well before you have a chance.

— Greg”

“No need to be so vulgar, Gregory.

— Mycroft”

“You know you love it when I talk dirty.

— GL”

“Be that as it may, it certainly doesn’t apply in this context. Come over later?

— Mycroft”

“To do what?

— GL”

“I thought I’d show you how deeply I’m willing to go to vet someone.

— Mycroft”

“Lord. I’m not a young man, Mycroft. Please be gentle.

— GL”

“I may not be gentle but it will be memorable. 7pm, Gregory. Don’t be late. I wouldn’t want to have to paddle you - again.

— Mycroft”

‘Good lord. The Holmeses will be the death of me,’ Greg thought.

“I’ll be there.

— Gregory”

DI Lestrade pocketed his mobile and then walked over to talk to the perpetrators.

Crouching down, he said,

“You just messed with the wrong man.”

“Wha…what do you mean? Why?” Stammered Robby.

“I’ll let Mycroft explain that to you.” Greg stood up. 

“Donovan, let’s wrap them up and take them to go.”

Donovan nodded and began cuffing the men as Greg started back to his car.

“Wait! What’s a “Mycroft”?” Lee shouted at Lestrade’s retreating back.

“He’s your worst nightmare, mate.” Donovan said as she finished cuffing the now sober men and led them slowly away.


End file.
